


how will i know?

by pinkgrapefruit



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: BACK ON MY BULLSHIT, Bets & Wagers, F/F, Useless Lesbians, bob is so so done with monet, i am what?, monet should not be teaching, nina is bleach blonde and i love her, so they're PhD students, there is a cute child, there is a hamster called hiccup, timing is hazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgrapefruit/pseuds/pinkgrapefruit
Summary: “Alrighty,” Nina announces when their little meeting comes to its natural end, the tea having brought out her peppier side. She tilts her head, eyes wide behind the round glasses. “Do you dislike me, Monét?”Monét chokes on her own tongue and her eyes water as she coughs. “You don’t beat around the bush,” she jokes, a little shocked at how forward Nina is. She hadn’t expected that. “I don’t dislike you. I just don’t know you.” She admits honestly (although not too honestly).Nina hums a little in response. “We should fix that.”[aq black girl magic challenge 2020]
Relationships: Monét X Change/Nina West
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	how will i know?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artificialmeggie (ohmymeggs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmymeggs/gifts).



> hey! long time no see? so i started writing this as a cross between artificial queen's black girl magic fic challenge and a birthday present for my dear friend meggie... and then everything sort of went to shit? my health imploded and then school is happening and my brain is never the greatest - anyway, back now and I finally fucking finished it! i really hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think. it means so so much <3
> 
> (ps thank you mags for betaing i love u)
> 
> (pps happy late birthday megs)

_ There's a girl I know, she's the one I dream of _

_ Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above, mmm-hmm _

A little girl, five years old, clambers onto Monét’s lap with a huff. She’s small for her age, dark skin covered in a pair of yellow and orange dungarees, and she lolls her head back onto Monét’s supporting arm, hair tickling the woman’s skin. 

Monét chuckles softly, still trying to pay attention to her brother as her niece squirms on her lap, begging for attention. Eventually, Bob just rolls his eyes and nods to his daughter telling Monét to placate her as he goes to refill their cups, long empty on the coffee table between them. 

“Auntie Mooooo,” Zola whines with a pout, and Monét bounces her knees under the girl’s weight just to make her jump. 

“Yes, Zozo?” She answers, gratefully taking the mug of coffee Bob passes her, and breathing in the strong aroma. 

“I want someone to play with.” 

Monét knows the right answer to this, but she’s also pretty sure Zola isn’t asking her to play with her. She knows she’s asking the same thing her mother has been asking ever since she turned twenty-five. The same thing she was asked when she applied for her PhD program with the knowledge she would be in academia until she was at least twenty seven. It didn’t help that Bob got a girl pregnant at twenty-four. Monét was twenty then, but it only spurred her mother on. 

She sighs and rubs a hand down Zola’s back, placing the mug gently on the table, forgoing the coaster and hearing her mother’s voice in her mind, talking about staining the IKEA table like it was worth thousands.

“I know, baby,” she eventually answers with a slight shrug. She sends a smirk at Bob across the room “Maybe ask your daddy.”

Bob curses at her under his breath, and she’s pretty sure she saved it. Just. 

_ Oh, I lose control, can't seem to get enough, uh-huh _

_ When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love _

Monét has never been in love. There’s just never been time. 

She’s studying a PhD in gender identity and gender studies, and it’s exhausting, but so worth it. She gets to meet so many different people from different walks of life and hear their stories. It’s rewarding as hell. 

But some days she comes home to her studio apartment, to her hamster and her empty fridge, and wonders if there’s something she’s missing. If there’s something she could find and have and hold that would make it all a little bit easier. 

She doesn’t have the time to figure it out though - she gets up at seven to cycle to uni and be holed up in an office all day, only to get home at eight and order ramen, eating it while talking to Hiccup the hamster. He’s a very respectful companion. 

She tells him all about the lecture series she’s having to share with another PhD student - Gender in Education. It’s for the education majors - the eighteen-year-olds who decided they had enough life experience to teach five-year-olds how to tie their shoelaces, and, honestly, it’s not Monét’s primary research area (which she complains to Hiccup about at length), but she puts up with it because it’s a stipulation for her funding. 

The woman she shares it with is peppy and warm and, quite frankly, scares Monét, who has planned three out of the eighteen lectures they’re expected to give over the year, because Nina had done the other fifteen within three weeks. They’ve never actually met, running their PhD’s out of separate faculties, but with similar themes. From what Monét has read (or been told by her supervisor), Nina is doing ‘Gender in Early Education’, which sounds interesting, but also like it’s a lot of discussing how the girls do Dance in PE and the boys do Football, and Monét was never good at either, so she doesn’t really care. 

She lectures with a mug of coffee and in her leggings. Nina wears heels. Small differences.

They still haven’t met halfway through the first semester (and Monét still considers her her mortal enemy).

Most people who share a class will meet to discuss essay marking and class planning, but Nina emails all of this to Monét promptly, and Monét ignores it all for at least 24 hours just to feel some gratification. If she gets an impatient email from Nina, she gets three points. A passive-aggressive one is worth five, and the day Nina knocks on her small office door - she will get ten. 

  
  


_ Ooh, how will I know (don't trust your feelings) _

_ How will I know _

The problem is, is that teacher rankings are posted at the end of each semester. And Nina beats Monét by half a point. 

She doesn’t answer any of the emails for a week and all she gets is an email containing a gif of a cat that looks mildly unimpressed. She’s sulking and even Bob asks why. 

He calls one night after she’s answered all of his texts with single words, and he doesn’t even speak, just lets her rant down the line about Nina.

“She’s just clearly so fucking good at her job and I don’t get it. We do the same job. We both mark essays on her criteria and do her powerpoints, not that the students know any of it, and I’m fine, I swear, I just don’t know why she’s better.”

She’s pretty sure Bob’s been muted, because suddenly half a laugh crackles through the line, and she scowls at the phone. 

“Do you want to be her? Or do you want her?” He asks, polite and calm, but you can hear the teasing undertones. Monét huffs and puffs while she figures out her answer, and she realises pretty quickly that - she doesn’t actually know.

“I don’t knowww,” she eventually whines and she can practically hear Bob raise his eyebrows.

“You sound like my five-year-old.” he scoffs, and she sticks her tongue out even though he can’t see her. He told her once that Zola makes the exact same face and the thought always makes her smile. “Have you seriously never met?” He asks after a long pause. She’s been cooing quietly to Hiccup who’s sat on her chest, and she sort of forgot he’s on the line.

“Nope,” she says, popping the p. “Well, not really. I’ve seen her in the corridors and I watched part of her first lecture, but we’ve never even said hello.” 

Bob makes a humming sound. “What do you think of her?” He asks, and she scrunches up her nose. 

“She’s intelligent. Clearly kind. She seems warm and cosy, and, god, she can explain anything in a way that seems easy. She’s just fucking nice.”

He clicks his tongue and sighs. “You like her,” he states plainly, and then she hears the tap of his thumb on the end call button and he is gone. She lays her head back on the couch and looks at the hamster who is contentedly eating a piece of cucumber. 

“I should probably do something about that,” she muses to him. 

They still haven’t met by the end of the year.

  
  


_ How will I know (love can be deceiving) _

_ How will I know _

She’s three weeks from the end of summer break, sitting in Bob’s yard, watching Zola chase their new puppy around the garden, when she gets an email. It’s not a welcome one - she’s not pleased about it. Her margarita slushie is melting in the heat, and the grass is warm and soft under her toes, and she’d like to be anywhere else but having to read her supervisor’s email, having pretended she wasn’t a PhD student for the last six weeks. 

Her tacky fingers push in her passcode and she has to scan the email a couple of times before it actually hits her. She curses quietly, but Zola still hears it, repeating  _ fuck _ under her breath until she realises Jackson has run too far away and goes back to chasing him. 

She sets her phone down and drinks until she has brain freeze.

It’s a little later, when the sun burns cooler and the child is in bed, that she reads the email aloud - elbows on the cool marble counter as Bob listens, wine in hand.

“We got such a high approval rating they want us to do it again,” she tells him, reading it as if it’s the first time and she hasn’t been churning the idea around in her mind for hours. “And they want us to do it together.” 

“Well, you’re screwed,” Bob tells her frankly, sipping his wine in a way that would anger a sommelier. The house is still warm, and she’s grateful for the scarf keeping her braids off her neck, but she still has to put a cold hand on the back of her neck to calm herself down. 

“I don’t want to teach education majors,” she whines, and Bob reminds her that she’s said this a thousand times. 

“You do know,” he says as he refills their glasses, “that you’re going to have to talk to her now.” 

She puts her head back down on the table and sticks her middle finger up at him. Her phone buzzes with an email alert and she ignores it.

_ How will I know if she really loves me? _

_ I say a prayer with every heartbeat _

When she reads that email, she learns that Nina seems thrilled with this arrangement, sending her google calendar request after google calendar request for a coffee meeting and conference meetings and planning meetings that Monét dutifully accepts. She’s conceded that she actually has to try. She doesn’t have to be happy about that. 

Two weeks before they go back to school, they meet in a Starbucks outside the campus. Nina is already seated in a corner, fingers wrapped around a glass tea mug. She’s bleach blonde with hair that falls just below her chin - round glasses framing her face, and a bright yellow t-shirt covered in a pastel pink anorak. Monét orders a coffee while pondering if she’s over or underdressed in her leather jacket, green bodysuit, and jeans. She inhales deeply holding the black coffee under her nose and makes her way over to the table, sliding into the table opposite Nina without so much of a hello. 

Nina smiles softly into her mug and looks up from the silver MacBook which she turns so Monét can see their lesson plans.

“Hi,” she says, still quiet and soft in a way that makes Monét feel brash without saying a word. 

“Hey,” Monét replies, trying to mirror the softness, but falling short as she squeaks at the heat of the coffee. Sticking her tongue out as if that will soothe the burns. 

They sit in an awkward sort of silence for a few minutes before Nina pulls them back onto the topic, opening up the list of twenty-four lectures. They’re separated into three topic blocks and colour-coded as such. Monét sees she’s been assigned the more theoretical side and almost wants to thank the blonde, although she pulls herself together in time to just nod politely. Nina took the section Monét hated teaching last year - gender in early education - and they’re sharing a larger section, simply named ‘The Gender Bias’. 

“That looks good,” Monét states lamely, nodding along as Nina explains the graphic. When she gets to essay marking, Monét butts in that she’d be very happy to take her share of the marking, and they come to the consensus that they’ll mark their sections and then split the joint module. 

“Alrighty,” Nina announces when their little meeting comes to its natural end, the tea having brought out her peppier side. She tilts her head, eyes wide behind the round glasses. “Do you dislike me, Monét?”

Monét chokes on her own tongue and her eyes water as she coughs. “You don’t beat around the bush,” she jokes, a little shocked at how forward Nina is. She hadn’t expected that. “I don’t dislike you. I just don’t know you.” She admits honestly (although not too honestly). 

Nina hums a little in response. “We should fix that.”

_ I fall in love whenever we meet _

_ I'm asking you what you know about these things _

Nina’s way of fixing that is crazy golf and cocktails, which Monét appreciates greatly. Nina orders a candyfloss pink drink filled with parma violets that smells like coconut rum, and Monét gets a neon green drink in a tall glass that’s supposedly full of vodka and mountain dew, but, honestly, she can’t taste either. 

The warehouse where the golf is set up is dark and sweaty, but the glowing neon tape everywhere makes it feel immersive. They bicker back and forth about which course to choose (Nina wants the circus course, but Monét is scared of clowns), and eventually settle on the jungle course with its comically big flowers and plastic tiger Monét wants to ride before the night is up. 

She follows Nina over to the start of the course, watching the way her ass moves in her light wash denim shorts. 

It turns out Monét is comically poor at mini-golf and Nina has the aim of a drunk frat boy in a bathroom (terrible). Between them, they’ve wracked up a line of two couples and one very rowdy business trip there for team building behind them as they try and fail to hit one hole.

When Monét finally passes the level, she finds herself in a celebratory embrace and cannot help but admit to herself that Nina smells like warm linens and peppermint. 

She doesn’t loosen the embrace.

They eventually pass the whole course after two hours and a lot of loud singing Britney Spears with the overhead sound system. 

_ How will I know if he's thinking of me _

_ I try to phone but I'm too shy (can't speak) _

The first class of the year, Nina asked Monét to meet her in the lecture theatre half an hour before the lecture starts. It turns out that Monét gets there a bit early, so she loudly sips her iced coffee through the straw, sat on the desk with her legs swinging. She hears Nina before she sees her - tan heels clicking on the floor. It muffles on the harsh carpet, but only very barely.

Monét is dressed in a sleeveless shirt and black skinny jeans, but it’s too hot for early September and she’s cursing Nina for suggesting she dresses more appropriately. Nina is in a yellow patterned tea dress and she looks very pretty, and she looks like she’s not about to sweat out of her trousers - Monét refuses to count that as a win.

Nina is also carrying a jug of water with lemon slices in it, and two glasses. She is clearly the more put together of the two.

Luckily, Monét can one up her in one area. She understands the virtual hand in section. Each lecturer (or group of lecturers) has a hand-in area for their class with a chat for the class too, and while Nina has been planning the lessons, Monét has spent six and a half hour trying to figure out the damn system. She had to buy the IT guys a bottle of wine and she’s still pretty sure they avoid her emails.

Fortunately, they taught her enough for her to explain it generally to Nina, who nods passively while stealing sips of coffee.

She ends up sitting on the desk again while Nina runs the new class through the years outline, pacing in her heels, hands moving in a frenzy. 

_ Falling in love is so bittersweet _

_ This love is strong, why do I feel weak? _

Monét is checking the hand-in area for the second essay of the year when she finds out that Nina actually can’t access it at all. They’re sat in that same Starbucks, two green teas between them, and the blonde just smiles at her. She tilts her head to the side like a lost puppy and Monét cannot find it in herself to be mad, even though this means she wasn’t imagining it when the last essay set felt like 85 students worth. 

Nina scrunches her nose apologetically and tells her that she’ll contact the IT guys. (She doesn’t, Monét emails her 42 essays and receives the marks back in a colour-coded spreadsheet).

She’s scrolling aimlessly down the chat room section when she finds it. Her office feels even smaller with the beige blinds closed and when she checks the clock, wondering if she can grab another coffee, she realises it’s almost 11 p.m. The ‘it’ in question is a comment on the chat that seems innocuous at first glance, but it makes something tingle down her spine. She forces herself to sit up a bit straighter, shifting in her uncomfortable desk chair. She moves an arm too flippantly and a pile of papers falls onto the floor, scattering neon post-its over the dark blue carpet. 

@DuffyA ‘£10 says the profs are secretly fucking’ 

It makes her shake so much she doesn’t need coffee anymore.

_ Oh, wake me, I'm shaking, wish I had you near me now, uh-huh _

_ Said there's no mistaking, what I feel is really love _

“Monét, I have a five-year-old,” he sighs down the phone in lieu of a greeting. She’s calling him way too close to midnight for pleasantries and he listens to a few shallow breaths before he decides to ask why she’s phoning. 

“Do I like Nina?” She asks, voice weaker than usual and with an odd rasp to it. “Like objectively - do I like her?” 

Bob tries to stifle a laugh and Monét hears him switch the bedside light on down the line. There’s a shuffling noise as he sits up properly, and Monét starts to head out of her office to the car as she waits for him to talk. 

“I can’t tell you that,” he starts, and Monét lets out a huff that scares a rogue pigeon away from her. “I can’t tell you that, but I can say that if you’re asking me, that’s pretty telling.”

Monét clenches her jaw and exhales through the gap in her teeth, making a hissing sound that makes herself jump in the darkness. The streetlamp in the car park flickers every few seconds and she’s grateful she’s on the phone to someone, otherwise she’d be scared out of her skin. 

“You are unhelpful,” she ends up saying - the end muffled by the slamming of her car door. It’s boiling in the car, seeing as it’s been sat in the sun all day, so she frantically hits the air-con button until it starts to hum, and then sighs contentedly. 

“You alright there?” Bob asks, voice sleepy, but amused, and Monét whispers a quiet ’fuck you’ under her breath. “Can I go to bed or do you need to have another crisis?”

She checks the blinking light on her dash and tells him to go to bed - it’s almost half-eleven and, from her aunty & Zola weekends, she knows Zola wakes up like clockwork at six-forty-five. She winces in sympathy, grateful for her eight-thirty start tomorrow. 

“Don’t have another crisis without letting me know. I’m invested now,” Bob tells her, and she hears his light get switched off in the background. 

“Good night, whore.” 

“Good night, my dear sleep paralysis demon.”

“I love you.”

_ Ooh, tell me how will I know (don't trust your feelings) _

_ How will I know _

Nina sticks her head around the door of Monét’s office, and suddenly Monét is ashamed to exist. She hasn’t picked up all of her papers from the night before, so there is a decorative rug of research notes and neon post-its that make a soft crunching sound when you step on them. One of them tells her to buy more hamster food and she has to think back as to whether or not she’s completed that task yet (she hasn’t). 

Nina stares at them for a second before blinking rapidly and shaking her head. She takes a step forward and leans against the door frame, purple sundress clashing horribly with the ugly and faded olive green paint. 

“How can I help?” Monét asks once she’s gotten over the general embarrassment about her 200 square feet of blue carpet. She spins in her chair and it makes Nina giggle.

“I just wanted to check in!” Nina responds peppily, somehow she’s surviving the September heatwave so much better than Monét, who’s pretty sure her skin is about to melt off. She checks her watch and then looks back up at Monét. “Do you wanna grab lunch?”

Usually, Monét would jump at the chance to eat lunch with Nina, but honestly, she is still too unsteady in her feelings to consider spending more than their two-hour lecture later on together. 

She shakes her head, gesturing vaguely to the paper littered around the floor, and Nina’s face falls. 

“Okay,” she tries to recover, but she’s not quite as upbeat as before. It makes Monét’s stomach twist.

“Tomorrow?” 

Nina smiles and nods. “Tomorrow.”

Later, once they’ve finished their lecture about gender in sport, Monét opens the incognito tab on her browser containing the student chat room and lets her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she refreshes it. 

@BinksJ ‘I’ll raise you £20.’

@DaywoodC ‘£5 i want in’.

She leans back on her chair and rolls it across the room until it gets caught on a post-it. 

“Get hamster food,” she reads before groaning loudly and sticking the barely tacky strip onto her forehead.

_ How will I know (love can be deceiving) _

_ How will I know _

She ends up in Nina’s office the next morning, two takeout cups of iced tea in hand and her laptop awkwardly sandwiched between her upper arm and her chest. It almost fell when she was walking up the stairs and, honestly, she’d become at peace with the fact she was going to drop it. Thankfully, it survived the journey, and she awkwardly waves the teas at Nina for the blonde to take them out of her hands. Nina sets them on a little cork coaster with inspirational quotes burnt onto them. She has a disconcerting lack of piles of paper and Monét briefly wonders if she just doesn’t face human issues. 

Nina hums contentedly while sipping iced tea and it snaps Monét out of her brain, so she can set the laptop down on the (irritatingly clear) desk. Nina looks at her quizzically, but Monét waves a hand, and it seems to appease the blonde. 

“What can I do for you today, then?” Asks Nina, blowing bubbles into her drink through the bamboo straw. It makes a pleasant noise - like a babbling brook that you dip your toes in on a hot day - and once again Monét has to work to pull her focus back to the task at hand and not let her anxiety send floodwaves through her brain. 

She flicks her laptop open and scrolls through her seventeen tabs to find the right one before opening on a screenshot of the messages she’d found last night. 

Nina just stares. 

She blinks a few times, blows another bubble, and then places the drink down in a very measured way, before wiping her damp hands on her skirt. 

“Okay,” she says, “okay.” The reaction isn’t what Monét expected, but then again she’s not hugely sure what she expected, aside from maybe some more drama, and not just a sort of shocked calmness.

“Okay?” She responds, teasing, and Nina slaps her - or at least tries to, waving a hand in her direction. “Is it actually okay, though?” She asks for clarification, and it causes Nina to worry her lip between her teeth before she claps her hands together loudly.

“Well, I don’t see how we can’t get some fun out of it.”

_ How will I know if she really loves me? _

_ I say a prayer with every heartbeat _

Monét drags a small stool from the corner of Nina’s office to perch next to her and they stare at the chat together, just rereading the comments that started it all. “Binks is the small one, pink backpack, Vans,” Nina tells her as Monét’s stomach twists in anxiety. “Daywood has the yellow kanken.”

Monét nods. She doesn’t know exactly the girls that Nina is on about, but she can vaguely picture them - she’ll at least know who to glare at (or thank, depending on how this all goes).

“Do you wanna do the honours?” She asks, making a gesture that could either mean scroll up or go fuck yourself, and Nina quirks an eyebrow before scrolling up and refreshing the site. 

The first comment in the chat is actually about education but the second;

@FlintS ‘I saw how they looked at eachother - I want in now. £5’

“Do we look at eachother?” Monét jokes awkwardly, hands over her eyes like she’s blind. “As far as I’m aware, you’re short, pink haired, and dress like a sports lesbian.”

Nina lets out a barking laugh, “I dress like a femme lesbian, thank you very much,” she quips, and Monét’s heart falls out of her ass.

They read a few more bets and it gets the gears working in Nina’s head. “How much do you think we could make from this?” She asks. “I know you’re got hamster food to buy.”

“Fuck off.”

“No, seriously,” she pushes, and it makes Monét stop swiveling on the spinny-stool and actually look at her. 

“At least a hundred, I reckon,” she ends up deciding, and Nina nods thoughtfully.

“It’s easier than becoming a stripper.” Nina shrugs as she turns back to the laptop and it seems almost like they’ve just made an unspoken agreement. At least, Monét hopes they have. She intends to try and make as much money out of this bet as possible.

_ I fall in love whenever we meet _

_ I'm asking you what you know about these things _

Monét stands at the doors awkwardly, having picked up Zola’s lunch box from the trolley under the awning. She’s never quite sure how to go about picking Zola up, even though she knows she’s on the teacher’s lists and perfectly able to make sure she doesn’t die crossing a road. 

Two mothers holding digger shaped lunch boxes stare as she twists her braids into a bun just to keep them off her neck in the still tacky heat. She shakes her legs in her flowy trousers to try and generate some sort of fan effect, because she’s not sure she’ll make it home otherwise, and it’d feel wrong to use Zola’s water bottle. 

Thankfully, the bell rings and the doors open soon after. The teacher, a kindly old lady called Mrs Davies, spots each parent and watches as the kids run over. It’s a long and arduous process, but eventually Monét spots Zola’s purple t-shirt and waves frantically until Zola is pointing and running into her arms. It takes a little bit of oomph to pick the five-year-old up, but she manages to hold her just long enough to say hello before she needs to resort to just holding her hand. 

“MOMO!” Zola yells, and it makes a smile spread across Monét’s face even as the judgy digger mums scowl at the loud girl. 

“ZOZO!” She says in response with the enthusiasm of a yell. She swings their arms between them and Zola squeezes her hand. “I missed you, baby,” she tells her and Zola rests her fluffy curls against her arm. It’s a nice kind of tickle. 

“I drawed you today!” Zola tells her, adorably enigmatic. 

“You drew me?” 

“I drewed you!”

“I’m honoured, Zozo.” For a second she wishes she could bring Zola to her lectures and just teach the eighteen-year-olds about identity by letting them talk to the five-year-old, but somehow she doesn’t think HR would cover that.

“How is Nini?” Zola asks as they cross a road, and it almost makes Monét stop in her tracks as she realises that Bob, the sneaky bastard, told her niece about her workplace crush. 

She swallows hard. “Nina is good,” she responds, voice measured.

“Good,” Zola tells her and she sounds so determined it makes Monét nod with her. Nina is good, too good.

_ How will I know if she's thinking of me _

_ I try to phone but I'm too shy (can't speak) _

Monét manages to get to the lecture theatre early on Tuesday and she’s very grateful, because it means she gets to watch Nina descend the stairs - curled white hair bouncing on her shoulders. She’s in flats today, levelling the height difference, and another pretty tea dress. It’s pink with white flowers on it, and it makes her look like a damn fairy as Monét shifts in her purposefully tight trousers. Her white shirt is unbuttoned one button too low and if Nina stands too close, she’ll see the lace of her bra - emerald green on her skin.

Nina gives her a once over before placing a careful hand on Monét’s hip. “We’re going to have to be more touchy,” she whispers, voice low and breath tickling Monét’s ear. She inhales sharply and it makes Nina chuckle. “Relax,” she implores.

Then the bell rings and students file into the room. Nina’s hand is neatly tucked into Monét’s back pocket. 

Their eyes lock for longer in the lecture, hands brushing as Nina moves to change the slide on the computer. At one point, Monét sits up on the table at the front and Nina inadvertently stands between her legs, one hand on her jean-covered thigh. 

About half-way through the two-hour lecture, Monét feels her confidence growing. They give the class a five-minute break as the topic they’re covering is very wordy and Monét goes to stand behind Nina at the lectern. She places one hand on Nina’s hip and another grazing where the fastening of her bra can be seen through her dress.

Nina shivers almost imperceptibly, and Monét - under the guise of reading something off the computer screen - blows on her exposed neck until she gets a sharp elbow between her ribs.

“Stop it,” Nina tells her, tone playful and quiet.

“You love it.”

“Fuck off.”

_ Falling in love is so bittersweet _

_ This love is strong, why do I feel weak? _

When the lecture ends, Monét lets the class leave, checking her watch (it’s quarter past one) and hoists herself back up onto the table at the front of the room to flick through the couple of paper essays from kids who want extra credit. 

Nina stalks up to her, placing a hand on each thigh as she stands snugly between Monét’s legs. “Do you think that went well?” She asks, and Monét smiles, nodding.

“They seemed to all grasp the concepts and these essays are-”

She’s cut off by Nina, swatting at the paper in her hands. “Not that, you dummy.”

And then she does something that catches Monét so off guard she almost falls off the table. 

She kisses her.

Monét pulls away first, shocked, but melting like butter. “What?” She asks, voice trembling, and Nina looks taken aback.

“Sorry,” she mutters, “I must have misread the bra and everything, sorry.” She moves to leave, but Monét grabs her wrist, pulling her back into a slightly slower, sweeter kiss that leaves them both made of honey and syrup - languid and warm.

Monét’s never been so glad to see Nina in flats - her shorter stature making her seem sweet even as she bites gently on Monét’s lower lip. 

“We- are in- a lecture- theatre-” Monét stutters between kisses and she feels Nina sligh into the kiss before pulling away. 

“Your office of mine?” Nina asks, her now red lips rising into a smirk.

“Mine has a lock.”

“Yours.”

_ Hey, if she loves me _

_ Oh, how will I know, how will I know _

Monét leads Nina into her box living area slowly. She’s not worried about what Nina will think per say - but she’s not not worried. She’s quite confident that Nina’s apartment will be light and airy and painted in soft pastels, while Monét’s is all warm neutrals and post-its scattered like it’s just an extension of her office.

Of course, she’s most worried for her to see Hiccup - the poor little bastard has been listening to her moan almost more than Bob and if they don’t like each other she’ll have to get rid of Nina. It would be a real shame. 

Monét shakes her head to pull herself out of her mind, ignoring the bemused, but fond smile Nina gives her.

“Where’s the handsome man then?” Asks Nina, breaking the silence as she looks around the small space. She must spot the hamster cage in the corner, because she immediately does a cute little jog over to it as Hiccup’s scuffling becomes louder.

“Little attention whore,” jokes Monét as she joins Nina by the cage, carefully unlatching it and grasping Hiccup’s wriggly little body in her hands so she can hold him up by her face. “You excited to meet Nina?” She coos, “you excited bubba?” 

Nina makes a squeak as she looks at his fluffy little form and then makes grabby hands, a beaming smile on her face when Monét hands Hiccup over. She places him on the shoulder of her denim jacket and he runs across her shoulders before she picks him back up, holding his soft fur to her cheek.

“Oh, you’re a little angel,” she tells him softly, “You’re a sweet little baby.”

Monét relaxes. There’s only one hurdle left, and it better go well because she’s damn enamoured with this woman.

_ Ooh, how will I know if she really loves me? _

_ I say a prayer with every heartbeat _

If she’d been nervous for Nina to meet Hiccup, she’s damn terrified for her to meet Zola. The little girl has been bouncing off the walls ever since Monét told her she’d be bringing Nina over (or at least according to Bob).

Nina’s hand is clammy, but soothing in her own as they knock on the door. They can hear Moana coming through the door and Monét smiles weakly as Bob opens it - already looking bemused. 

“The child is in the living room,” he says before turning his attention to Nina. “I’m Bob, I’ve heard so much about you,” he tells her, and she smiles in response.

“I’ve heard much about you too,” she responds.

“All good things,” Monét sneaks in.

“Mostly good things.”

Bob just laughs and gestures for her to leave her shoes by the door before opening the previously shut door to the living room to allow a tornado of energy to come barrelling towards Monét’s legs.

“MOMO, MOMO, MOMO!” She shouts and Monét’s face hurts from smiling as she hauls Zola up onto her hip. 

“You’re getting too big for this, Zozo,” she tells her as the little girl pouts. Monét spins them round to face Nina and watches the blonde’s face morph into an adoring grin. “This is Auntie Nina,” she introduces, and Nina gets a small wave in before Zola is screaming.

“NINI!”

“Zozo!”

“Inside voices,” Bob interjects, glaring at Monét who shrugs and turns back to her girlfriend, who has wrestled Zola off her and is now bouncing the five year old on her hip.

“I’m going to be this many next week,” Zola tells Nina, holding up six fingers, her tongue stuck out in concentration.

Monét just watches. Bob might disagree (he definitely would), but she’s pretty sure this is bliss.

“Momo?” Asks Zola. “I want someone to play with.” Monét sighs and gives Bob a stare that could burn him alive.

Okay, maybe not bliss. But close.

_ I fall in love whenever we meet _

_ I'm asking you 'cause you know about these things _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! maybe it will get me to post something in less than three months!


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